


In The Evening

by severaance



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Light Angst, Transgender Morgan, transgender character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 14:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7365373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/severaance/pseuds/severaance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dear younger me, </p><p>Everything will be alright. </p><p>PS. When you cut your hair off, you don't need to run away; mom won't be mad."</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Evening

**Author's Note:**

> for ky my guy who i think was seriously more pumped abt this than i am

Fran Morgan came home one evening with sore feet and a menial paycheck from a job that barely put food on the table for her three girls. Yet, she still donned an easy smile, thankful for her little family. She placed her things down on the table by the threshold of the apartment before heading into the main room where Sarah and Desiree sat on the floor, zoning out in front of the TV. Fran rolled her eyes at the two, reaching down to playfully smack the back of their heads.

“Your eyeballs are gonna fall out you keep doing that.” She scolded lightly. The girls scrunched their noses up at their mother, but scooted back from the TV nonetheless. Fran grinned down at the girls, then frowned a bit as she peered down the hallway towards the bedrooms.

“Where’s Deirdre?” She asked. Observing Sarah and Desiree’s guilty faces, she sighed softly and chastised, “You two need to include your sister more.”

Sarah grumbled, “Yeah, like she’d ever watch Sixteen Candles.” Desiree snorted at that, agreeing with her sister.

Fran shook her head at the girls, telling them, “Just because Der likes different things than you doesn’t mean you have to be so catty.” She paused before adding, “You know what? Go to your room. It’s late.”

Naturally, Sarah and Desiree balked at their mother, exclaiming, “But momma, we-” but Fran only held up a hand to silence them before they could even finish. They both marched away indignantly to their shared room, grumbling under their breaths. Fran shook her head at the two, sighing softly as she trailed behind them to Deirdre’s room. She paused in front of the closed door, knocking lightly on the wood.

“Der? I’m home.” Fran called out. When she heard nothing from her daughter, her lips twitched into a frown and she pushed the door open. Immediately she felt something was off and after canvassing the room quickly, her suspicions were proved true; the room was completely empty. Taking a quick peek into the bathroom and finding no sign of her youngest, Fran spun around to knock on the other girls’ bedroom door. She didn’t wait for them to answer before she entered the room.

“Is she in here?” She asked, panic slowly seeping into her voice. When Sarah and Desiree only looked at their mother confusedly, Fran said angrily, “Christ, Sarah, I leave you in charge and you don’t even know where your own sister is?”

Sarah looked down at the ground ashamedly, defending weakly, “I thought she was in her room all night. I didn't know she- I’m sorry.” Fran let out a huff and shook her head, giving her two children a stern look before she headed into the kitchen. She grabbed the phone off the receiver, punching in the number of Deirdre’s closest friend, Jade, her fingers crossed.

Jade’s mother, Monique, answered on the fourth ring with a groggy and confused, “Mrs. Morgan?”

“Is Deirdre at your house?” Fran asked, not wasting any time. There was a long pause as she heard Monique call out for her daughter, their quiet conversation filling the other line.

“No. Is something the matter?” Monique replied after a few beats. Fran inhaled sharply, squeezing her eyes shut.

“No, she’s- She’s just not home. I don’t know where else she would’ve gone.” Fran admitted. She could almost hear Monique frowning, Fran’s anxiety obviously palpable.

“Ci’Onnie Jade!” Monique called out to beckon her daughter back. Fran waited impatiently as the two exchanged words, able to hear faintly Jade’s guilty mumbling.

Finally, she heard Monique sigh in frustration and say, “She came by earlier this evening. Jay says she was pretty upset, that she said she wanted to just get away. What's going on? Did you two have a fight?”

Fran gulped helplessly at Monique’s words, shaking her head to herself. “I don't know. Where- Where is she? Is she okay?”

“Here. You talk to her.” There was rustling on the other line as Monique handed the phone to her daughter, then the quaint sound of Jade’s voice greeting Fran.

“Hi, honey.” Fran answered, lacking her usual cheery tone. “Did you see Deirdre at all today?” She could hear Jade shuffling around, obviously anxious.

“Y-Yeah.” Jade replied slowly. Fran chewed on her lip nervously as she continued to shift her weight between her feet impatiently.

“Do you know where she is now?” Fran badgered. Once again, Jade was hesitant to reply.

“I don’t wanna get in trouble, ma’am.” Fran sighed at the girl’s frightened tone of voice, her increasing worry causing her to lose patience.

“Sweetie, you’re not in trouble. Just tell me where she is, okay?” She pleaded helplessly. Running through her mind was every terrible thing her imagination could conjure up happening to her daughter, and the thoughts and images were making her sick.

“She took a bag and went to the field where the older girls go to.. Y’know. Smoke and stuff.” At Jade’s confession, Fran heard her mother adamantly scold her, but Fran couldn’t have cared less at that moment. All she could do was give a murmured “thank you” before hanging up and grabbing her keys, darting out the apartment door.

* * *

After 45 minutes of driving around aimlessly, Fran had finally made her way to the empty field Jade had mentioned. She pulled her car up onto the grass and parked, wasting no time hopping out and scanning the field. She yelled out Deirdre’s name multiple times, searching high and low for any sign of her daughter. Suddenly, she heard a quiet whine and rustling from behind one of the trees. She half ran over to the high shrubbery, giving a sigh of relief when she saw Deirdre cowering behind a stump.

“Deirdre Hannah Morgan, what in the hell are you doing?!” Fran scolded, reaching forward to pull her daughter up to her feet. Deirdre went reluctantly, avoiding her mother’s gaze as she assessed her. “You damn near gave me a heart attack!”

When Deirdre only gave a whimper in response, Fran released her from the embrace and frowned. She scanned over Deirdre with her eyes, then paused once they landed on Deirdre’s hair.

“What did you do to your hair?” Fran asked, reaching out to touch the now choppy curls. They were much shorter, wild and uneven in most places. Fran sighed quietly at the sight, twirling her finger in one of the curls.

“I hate it.” Deirdre mumbled, barely audible over the sound of her heart beating in her chest. Fran only sucked her teeth and shook her head, taking Deirdre’s face in her hands.

“Honey, your beautiful curls are nothing to be ashamed of. They’re a part of your heritage, you shouldn’t-”

“They make me look like a girl, momma!” Deirdre interrupted indignantly, angrily batting away Fran’s hands. Fran was obviously taken aback, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion. She stared bewildered at her daughter, trying to make sense of the words.

“Der, you are a girl.” Fran said slowly, hands dropping to her sides. Deirdre shook her head adamantly in refusal, curling in on herself. Her hands went to her wild hair, and she began tugging on it roughly.

“Baby, you’re not making sense.” Fran said, trying to get Deirdre to look at her. “What do you mean?”

Deirdre whimpered softly, continuing to shake her head as she whispered, “You’re gonna be so mad.” Fran frowned, reaching out to touch her daughter’s face once again.

“Tell me, baby.” Fran asked, softer this time. She watched as Deirdre’s bottom lip began to quiver, her whole form shaking.

After a long, tense silence, Deirdre revealed, “I don’t wanna be a girl; I’m not a girl.” She refused to look up at her mother, yet Fran could still see tears welling up in her daughter’s eyes. The sight broke her heart, and the shock of Deirdre’s confession was not nearly as potent as the sadness she felt seeing Deirdre in distress.

“Oh, honey.” Fran replied simply before pulling Deirdre into a hug. She heard Deirdre hiccup and begin to sob quietly, clutching Fran’s sweater tightly in her fists. Fran ran her hand up and down Deirdre’s back soothingly, not bothering to burden her with words. She held Deirdre close to her chest and began to sway back and forth, calmly rocking Deirdre until her ragged breathing slowed down.

“Let's get you home, okay?” Fran said softly after some time, pressing a kiss to Deirdre’s hair. She took one last look at it and sighed quietly before she added, “We’re going to need to get up early tomorrow if it means getting you a spot at the barbershop.”

Deirdre’s head suddenly snapped up at that, her teary eyes now staring at Fran in disbelief. Fran wore a soft, yet somewhat sad, smile and reached out to cup Deirdre’s face, saying, “I can't have my son walking around looking like this, now can I?” She ruffled Deirdre’s hair affectionately, feeling her own tears well up in her eyes when Deirdre smiled shakily at her.

“Derek.” Deirdre said quietly, looking down for a moment as she twiddled with her fingers. “Your son’s name is Derek.”

Fran chuckled softly and nodded, committing the name to memory. She pressed another kiss to Derek’s, her son’s, cheek, and guided him out of the grass and into the car. She took one last glance over at the old oak tree before climbing into the car and driving off, leaving Deirdre behind, ready to make new memories - with Derek. 

**Author's Note:**

> "She scissored the curls away, and - toms, grow easily sentimental over their haircuts, but I remember this sensation very vividly - it was not like she was cutting hair, it was as if I had a pair of wings beneath my shoulder-blades, that the flesh had all grown over, and she was slicing free." Sarah Waters, Tipping the Velvet


End file.
